


Softly Scripted

by akire_yta



Series: kink bingo [1]
Category: Bandom, Disney RPF
Genre: M/M, akificlets, kink bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-23 01:57:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/920634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akire_yta/pseuds/akire_yta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kink Bingo: Writing on the Body square, prompt from xsnarkasaurus</p>
            </blockquote>





	Softly Scripted

 

Joe felt his eyes drift close, his muscles relax, as he started to float in white fluffy nothingness. Above him, straddling his hips, Bill hummed softly to himself as he thought. “Why do you demean yourself as he belittles you?” he read as he slowly inked the words in flowing cursive across Joe's shoulders.

Joe breathed out, sniffing slightly, nose still blocked after spending the night crying. “Why do you doubt yourself because he doesn't trust you?” he whispered, call and response. Bill made a noise of quiet approval, the pen scraping lightly as he wrote the words along the width of Joe's shoulders.

He could try writing these songs alone, but he ended up with worthless scribbles and a headache from the fresh bout of tears. He can't remember how he and Bill fell into this pattern; he vaguely remembers throwing a wad of unusable lyrics at the wall and screaming to the only person who would listen about how they were shallow and stupid and didn't go beneath the skin to the truth.

And now here they were. Joe let the lyrics he could feel drying on his back spool through his mind. “Why do you offer yourself on the sacrificial altar?” he half-sang the next line, fumbling to articulate not just this latest heartbreak but every stupid dating decision he'd made these last couple of years.

He was closer than he'd ever got before to the truth. He tried not to tense up in anticipation, stay light and floaty, spread out on the floor and pinned into place by Bill's hips, but the last line wouldn't come.

Bill rescued him, as he always did. “What do you get,” he read slowly as he wrote. “That makes it worth the pain?”

Joe was silent. The question wasn't rhetorical. His fingers flexed slightly where they were splayed over the carpet, but otherwise he didn't dare move.

Bill's legs were warmth seeping through the seat of his jeans, and his hand burned beautifully where he had let it rest in the small of Joe's back.

Joe closed his eyes as Bill leaned forward and chastely kissed the ridge on the back of his neck before he pushed up and walked out of the room.

Joe stayed where he was, lying motionless on the floor, letting the ink dry into his skin.


End file.
